A double update! Aren't you proud of me?
I was just bored, and this was ready to go, so... enjoy!
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CHAPTER 6: ARRIVALS AND DEPARTURES
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"Hermione, chuck me that cloth, would you?"
They were several hours into the cleaning of what was to be the guest room at Grimmauld Place, and the grime was slowly lifting under the combination of magic and elbow grease. Hermione settled back into the familiar rhythm between Harry, Ron and herself; it was relieving to just live, to just enjoy herself without a care in the world. She hoped that the feeling wouldn't leave, but she knew deep inside that it couldn't last long.
She wanted it to be longer than it turned out.
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"Found another one." Hermione said tiredly, writing down the page reference with a flick of her quill. They were in the dark library of Grimmauld Place, where they had volunteered to do Order work. She just didn't realise that it would involve so much... paperwork.
"I can't feel my fingers." Ron muttered. "Why are we doing this again?"
Why, indeed... as it turned out, they were really doing Auror work- catching up on behalf of Tonks, Shacklebolt and the others, who were unable to carry the workload plus their off-duty work for the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione reminded herself daily that better work would soon be heading her way- in the form of a bubbling potion and a surly Professor.
But, for the moment, they were stuck with Witness Statements and Cross Referencing swimming in front of their tired eyes.
As a result, her entries were sharper than usual.
I go on a holiday, only to find that no form of relaxation is involved. Really, if it wasn't for the Potions sessions coming up, I might go mad...
But there is where I stop. I cannot assume to know anything about you, or how deep you are in fighting the Dark forces. Nevertheless, allow me this final, ambiguous, and undoubtedly curious rant.
Where on Earth could that man be???
"I'm coming, Miss Granger... honestly, have you no patience?"
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The fairly noisy family dinner (including a majority of the Weasley's, one Potter, one Tonks and one Moody) almost completely covered the sound of the doorbell. Hermione asked someone over the din if she should answer it, and got a wave in response. Supposing that it was an invitation, she ran on light feet down the hall and drew out her wand as a precaution. She drew back the heavy bolt, peeking her head around the door-
The door swung open with a bang as the body leaning on it collapsed inside, a blur of sodden black cloth and pale skin. Hermione was immediately on guard, but soon appraised the situation as it was.
"Get me some help down here!" She shouted as loud as she could, being rewarded with a sudden hush and a scrape of chairs. She turned the man over, seeing what she had assumed; Snape was limp in her arms, his eyes closed and unresponsive. She shuddered as she saw a patch of sticky blood on the front of his robes. "Professor, can you hear me?" She said, feeling a little numb. "You're safe, sir... you're here."
Mad-Eye and Mr. Weasley arrived, and Snape's heavy form was taken from her arms. It seemed wrong, the way he hung there limp and submissive. She realised belatedly that there was water and blood on her Muggle jumper and jeans when Harry and Ron saw her return to the kitchen, pale faced.
"Who was it?" Harry said urgently. "They wouldn't let us look..."
"Professor Snape." Hermione said woodenly. "It looked pretty serious."
Even Ron had to good sense to look sombre.
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Hermione was not allowed near the recovering Professor. No one was, in fact; as far as Hermione could tell, the only people with contact to the man were Dumbledore who had visited a few times and Mrs. Weasley when she delivered his meals. So it was that a few days after the incident she was extremely shocked to find that he had asked for her.
Mrs. Weasley had told her after lunch. "Severus wants to talk to you, dear, something about a potion of some sort..."
Now she was standing on the landing, totally unprepared for what lay behind the door.
She would be lying if she said she wasn't worried about him. Every time he came back to Hogwarts drained physically and emotionally she would feel a twinge of sympathy that she would shove down, knowing that it was the last thing he wanted. Instead, she had turned that sympathy into something completely unexpected: anger. How dare this war take its toll on him? How dare You Know Who put him through this? How dare she let him go back, again and again?
"Were you going to come in, or stand in the corridor indefinitely?"
She winced, opening the door slowly.
It wasn't as bad as she had expected; he was sitting at his desk, an obvious stiffness preventing sudden movement, a plain black ensemble on (without shoes, which she noticed with a strange detachment) and the same arrogance to his face.
It was almost with a palpable relief that she said, "You're looking much improved, sir."
He frowned. "You saw me previously?"
She shifted."Yes, sir... I answered the door."
He froze for a moment, and then relaxed with an obvious effort. "I was not informed... no matter, I will soon fully capable of the intensive brewing required. Are you ready?"
"Yes sir; I've cleared out the laboratory Mrs. Weasley mentioned you used last time, and stocked it with the basic apparatus."
"Very well..." He looked at her for a long moment, and she felt a hitch in her chest as his gaze shifted beyond a mere appraisal. There was a long and pregnant silence before he broke their eye contact. "The ingredients are in that trunk." He inclined his head to a small leather and wood box by the foot of the bed. "Please be careful."
"Of course." She managed not to be injured by the implication, knowing that it was common sense. "When should it be ready for, Professor?"
His expression clouded over for a second, so quickly that Hermione thought she might have been imagining it. "A few days, four at the most... and after that, I have the remainder of my life."
Hermione froze in her act of picking up the trunk, slowly coming to terms with what he had said. Did that mean... he was finished? He wasn't a Death Eater?
"To prevent speculation and investigation on your inquisitive part, Miss Granger, I was indeed discovered by the Dark Lord- and was to be punished accordingly. Needless to say, that wasn't my preferred course of action... and you can refrain from the repetition of 'Professor'. That is no longer relevant." He was brooding again, looking past her and into some unimaginable memory.
She didn't know what to say to that, so she merely picked up the trunk and nodded in his direction. "I'll be waiting for you, sir." You're still needed here- you still have a purpose...
He seemed to get the subtext; his eyes glittered with sudden feeling. "Then I will endeavour to be down earlier, rather than later."
She left the room conflicted; how would he cope? Would he be able to live without the role that had been his only refuge for so long? Without the Slytherins that he so carefully cultivated and shielded without their knowledge? Only time would tell, and she would be watching.
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Snape watched her retreating back with dark thoughts returning as she closed the door. He had seen the flash of pity in her eyes- pity that was immediately quashed in favour of professionalism and a blank concern. He leaned over his desk top to reach a quill, wincing as the wound protested.
The wound... she had seen it, presumably. A jagged slash across his torso, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy. Scorned by his master, demoted beyond his lowest expectations, he'd gone mad. Once the proud leader of the recent undetectable guerrilla group- now shamed for not killing them before the Ministry got hold of them for questioning.
They didn't know much, of course; Malfoy was too careful in that respect, and he'd always hidden his identity during the training sessions. But they knew enough to seriously inconvenience the Dark Lord, who had taken measures to stop it happening again.
Snape hadn't been there, but he'd heard hoarse whispers in dark corridors that Malfoy had pleaded like a Muggle child to spare his life. The Dark Lord did not like beggars.
Draco would never look upon his father's face again- only ruined flesh remained in its place. The Dark Lord had given the ultimate humiliation; no power, no physical intimidation, and definitely no minions.
In turn, Malfoy had struck out at Snape; an irrational, impulsive move that nevertheless was the spy's downfall. In his manic search for redemption in the Dark Lord's eyes, he had uncovered Snape's true colours- through a series of events that Snape saw as sheer luck and a slight misjudgement on his part, Malfoy had enough evidence to present his case to their Master.
Snape had barely escaped with his life.
In a way, he wished that he hadn't.
At least he'd taken Lucius out with him, an action that he would never regret.
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Harry and Ron were inexplicably waiting at the bottom of the staircase, and they both looked strangely relieved when they saw Hermione coming down. "What did you expect?" She said in frustration. "Snape dragging my body down the stairs?"
They looked at each other, and she knew that was exactly what they expected. "Do you need help with that?" Harry said to cover the moment.
The boys carried it down to the dungeon for her, even though she was perfectly capable with a small weight-reduction charm.
"I've never heard you call him plain 'Snape' before." Harry said suddenly. "Have anything to tell us?"
Hermione blinked; sometimes he was freakily perceptive. "It's not my place to say." She said finally, knowing that most of what they discussed was in confidence. It couldn't be hidden forever, but it should be released on his terms. She instead decided to drop a lesser bombshell. "I've been working with him for a term."
"What?" Harry choked. "What on?"
"Potions, mostly... stuff for the Order." She didn't want to elaborate, as it would only make him angrier. "Look, I feel like I'm doing something useful with my time."
"Sure, that's fine, but... why didn't you tell us?" Ron said incredulously. "I mean, what if something had..."
She glared at him. "Care to elaborate, Ronald?"
"Come on, Hermione..." Ron began, but Harry sent him a quick look. He settled into muttered grumbling, and the conversation moved to less controversial topics.
Then they asked the question that she really, really didn't want to answer. "Are you visiting your parents these holidays?" Harry said. "I've never known you to miss one... don't stay here only for the Order."
"I can't see my parents, Harry."
"Why not?" He frowned.
"They... I don't know where they are." She whispered, the feeling of despair welling up again. "I haven't seen them all year."
"Were they... taken? Why didn't you tell us this either?" Ron said in a strange mixture of frustration and compassion.
Hermione shook her head. "They were under Order protection, but no one alive knows where. It'll be near impossible to find them now."
"I'm sorry, Hermione... if we knew..." Harry began, but she retorted quickly.
"What could you have done? Nothing. Don't let it get to you, Harry. They're safe, and that's enough to keep me fighting."
Harry laid his hand on her shoulder, sending her comfort. "We're here if you need us, Hermione. We won't forget what you've given up- what you're still giving up."
The three of them shared a sombre moment before returning upstairs, steeling themselves for the public eye.
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It was only after dinner that Hermione could find the time to further set up the lab, and she did so with the meticulous care expected of her. She felt the cold of the basement seeping into her, but she shrugged it off, thinking that she would only be a few minutes longer.
She was replacing the last vial when the tremors started.
She gasped in shock as they travelled up her arms, down her legs, making her tremble violently and her teeth chatter. It was soon so painful that she bit her lip to keep from screaming; she had barely enough time to reach for her wand and cast a clumsy Warming Charm, hoping that it would help somewhat.
She sat there on the stone floor, trying to relax her twitching limbs and berating herself for pushing her body beyond its limits. Cold was one of the triggers for the Curse, she remembered... Snape's voice seemed to come to her, clearing her mind. In the event of an episode, you can take an extra dose of the Potion if it's on hand, or wait it out- which can be the more painful option, certainly, but you'll live.
They had almost stopped; she risked shifting around so she could grab the table and pulled herself up, wincing at the stress on her weak legs.
"Idiot." She hissed to herself in a Snape-esque tone, as she painstakingly climbed the stairs (were there always that many?) to her rooms.
She slept for most of the night, and into the next morning, and was only awoken by the call from Ginny that she was going to miss breakfast.
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She hadn't written in the journal that night. Snape knew he shouldn't be so worried, but he was; if he could rely on one thing, it was Granger writing to him as regular as clockwork. He had been staring at the clear white page for a while before he snapped out of his strange fixation.
What could she have to say that was so fascinating to him? She probably wouldn't mention him anyway.
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What a strange night... I didn't get the chance to write yesterday's letter, which shouldn't bother you- you specified one a week to be satisfactory, but I've always been an overachiever.
I might as well admit this, since you're partly responsible for my safety; I had a relapse last night.
Snape sat up, wincing as the pain in his side dug in suddenly. A relapse?
It was a lack of vigilance on my part, but one that I never hope to repeat; it was painful, to say the least, and excruciating at the most.
That basement... I'll have to research some warming spells; I'm sure Sn- Professor Snape had something similar in the old ones; they never seemed as chilly as the outside air.
Snape noted that she had corrected her address to include 'Professor'; she was right in assuming that he didn't want his exit from Hogwarts to be generally known, at least not yet.
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"You alright, Hermione? You look a little peaky." Ron said from his lounge, the question muffled by the books surrounding them.
"It's just a cold, I'll be fine." Hermione sniffed, smiling at Ron's concern. She had on Hyperion's winter robes in an attempt to keep warm, Grimmauld Place being difficult to heat.
"Listen, Hermione..." he looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I know that we haven't been that close this year, and I'm sorry, but you're still a great friend." He blurted out.
Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Thanks, Ron. That really means a lot to me... but where did this come from?"
He went even redder. "I just thought... it needed to be said."
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Hermione was early down to breakfast the next day, and she was happy to help with the cooking of copious amounts of bacon, egg and sausage.
"Ginny, would you call down the boys for me? They're never usually this late..." Molly huffed, laying out the extra place settings on the scrubbed wooden table.
Ginny came back in a few minutes, a slight frown on her face. "They weren't in their rooms."
"Did you try the Library?" Hermione asked. "As strange as that may seem, they may have fallen asleep in there late last night."
Ginny shook her head. "Not that I could see. I called for them too."
Mr. Weasley walked in, looking around. "Is Harry here? We need to talk."
"We can't find him."
"What?" Arthur gasped, spinning around. It was the fastest that Hermione had ever seen him move. "What about Ron?"
"Neither of them..."
"Dammit." He swore, surprising Hermione even more. He ran out of the room, the thumping of him going upstairs fading into silence.
"Something's wrong, isn't it?" Molly whispered.
Mr. Weasley came back with the news that none of them wanted to hear, his tired face shadowed.
"They're gone. They've gone to find him."
A sound behind Mr. Weasley drew Hermione's attention; to her surprise, Snape came out of the shadows, an unfathomable expression on his face. Hermione was sure that no one else had seen him; he looked directly at her, nodded once, and turned to leave.
Risking a quick glance behind her to see that the Weasley's weren't looking, Hermione snuck out behind him, a thousand questions swimming through her head. "Sir..."
He turned slowly, leaning slightly on the banister at the bottom of the flight of stairs.
"How much hope is there?" She asked softly. "Do they have a chance?"
He looked into the middle distance. "A chance? Anything can happen, Miss Granger... Dumbledore would have supreme confidence in their choice- but I sense you were asking for my own opinion."
"Yes." She admitted.
He sighed, shifting on the spot. "I've done my utmost to keep them away from the Dark Lord- why do you suppose I did that? Because they couldn't possibly last a defiant second against his power. So yes, you could say that... I hold no hope for their safe return." He turned to her, his dark eyes flashing. "Go ahead, show your Gryffindor optimism. It's hardly refreshing to me, living as I am among them."
Hermione glared at him, strangely numb from the shock. "To be honest... I agree with you."
A flash of mild shock went across his face.
"They're not ready, not that they ever could be for what they face- but it was an extremely stupid decision on their part, which frankly doesn't surprise me. Do they really believe in quick fixes? They're not going to find one, or at least, won't gain anything from their attempts... in short, it was selfish to betray the Order and strike out on their own."
"It must be hard to admit that, Miss Granger, knowing what you've seen of them in the past... yet I applaud your realism. You'll need it, in the future..."
"I have realism enough, where it's needed." She said softly. "Sometimes I think that's cold, but I see the merit."
He nodded, looking pensive. "Then you are truly a fighter. By all means, wish for their safe return- but don't let it cloud your judgement. I've seen it happen too many times."
They were both silent as they contemplated the recent events, and he turned to leave.
She watched him climb the stairs in his steady way, hoping that both of their assessments would be proven wrong.
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